


Dovahkiin

by raspberrymocha



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alternate Universe - Skyrim Fusion, Dragonborn Noctis, Ficlet, Gladio has a low sneak level, High Elf Ignis, Imperial Prompto, M/M, Non-Graphic Violence, Orc Gladio, Rescue Missions, Techincally Ardyn is Alduin but he’s not in this, Video Game Mechanics, and Noct’s isn’t much better
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-26
Updated: 2019-03-26
Packaged: 2019-12-18 02:42:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,053
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18240764
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/raspberrymocha/pseuds/raspberrymocha
Summary: Noctis Lucis Caelum, the last Dragonborn, takes a break from saving the world to rescue one his boyfriends from the clutches of the empire.





	Dovahkiin

**Author's Note:**

> I wish I had an excuse for how long it’s taking me to put things out, but uh. I discovered Final Fantasy XIV, and it’s surprisingly fun.

“Three adventurers on an epic journey across the country!” Prompto cheers as the gates of Hammerhead slam closed behind them. He’s got his crossbow propped up on his shoulder. It’s a huge, cumbersome thing, but he worked hard for it, so he’s gonna use it. “I love it!”

“Actually,” Gladio frowns, thick eyebrows drawing together. “We’re still missing someone.”

“We are?”

“My steward, Ignis.” Noctis says, staring off into the distance. He’s got that far-away look on his face, like he’s focusing on something the rest of them can’t see. “The Empire has him under house arrest.”

“What? Don’t they have better things to do than worry about some stuffy old politician?”

Noctis snorts, But Gladio butts in before he can ask what’s so funny.

“They’re using him as bait, obviously. They’re hoping Prince Charmless here tries to contact him, so they can find him. Or do something stupid, like attempt a half-baked- That’s exactly what you’re doing, isn’t it?”

Noctis is already walking up the path, consulting a map that he pulled out of nowhere. Prompto’s not exactly an expert – being a foreigner and all – but he’s willing to be his last gil that road eventually leads to Insomnia.

“Look,” Gladio says, yanking him backwards by the collar of his shirt. That hardly seems like the proper way to treat royalty, but he and Noctis have an odd relationship – the kind that involves bickering all day and sharing a bed at night. Prompto doesn’t pretend to understand it. “I don’t like it, either, but there’s no reason for you to go delivering yourself to the Niffs on a silver platter, alright? Ignis can handle himself.”

“I know all that.” Noctis scowls adorably. “And I’m not suggesting we break down the front door. No one knows the Citadel – and all its secret passages – better than I do. There’s a tunnel here,” He points to a spot on the map outside of the city walls. “That goes straight to the cellars. We slip in through there, avoid alerting the guards, and bust Iggy out without anyone noticing.”

“And if it’s a trap?”

Noctis smiles, all teeth and a wicked glint in his eyes. “Then we go to Plan B.”

Neither of them bother asking what Plan B is.

Gladio groans, and runs a hand over his face. Clearly, he’s sensed that he’s not going to win this argument. “I’m only coming along to make sure you don’t get yourself killed.”

“Thanks, big guy.” Noctis says, patting one massive shoulder.

Prompto still doesn’t get why it’s so important they rescue this guy, but braces himself for the long trek back to Insomnia.

* * *

Upon retrospect, He thinks they should have known it wouldn’t be so easy. He excels at stealth – kinda comes with the whole thief territory – and has yet to be spotted by a creature that didn’t die immediately afterwards. The other two, not so much.

Noctis is probably realizing it wasn’t a great idea to bring his big, beefy orc bodyguard-slash-lover to a stealth operation. Not that he’s much better, really. They’ve been spotted at least half a dozen times by now, and the alarm has been sounded at least twice. So things are going well.

“It would’ve been fine, if somebody had just stayed behind that bookcase like he was supposed to.” Noctis scowls, kicking a dead Niflheim soldier.

“It’s not my fault all your dad’s things are so short.”

“Can we just keep moving _please_?” Prompto says. He doesn’t fancy hanging out with corpses all day while those two work out their issues.

“Right, this way.” Noctis says, turning down a hallway that looks identical to the one before it (and the one before that, and the one before that…) Still, he seems to know where he’s going.

They turn a corner, and there are two armored guards standing in front of a door. They’re supposed to be sneaky, but Noctis stomps right up to them, mouth open and eyes full of draconic fury.

“ _Fus_ _Ro_ _Dah_!”

No matter how many times he does it, it never ceases to startle Prompto – hearing a dragon’s voice coming from Noctis’s mouth, watching the force of it send two men in heavy armor flying. They don’t get back up, which Prompto thinks is wise.

He slides up against the door, Gladio behind him, and presses his ear against the wood. “I hear voices. It sounds like some kind of struggle.”

“Probably because somebody raised the alarm again.” Gladio says.

“Only one way to do this, then.” Noctis says, drawing his sword.

Prompto and Gladio straighten out, readying their weapons too. Then, with a force that Prompto feels is entirely unnecessary – but probably fine, considering Noct technically owns this place – Gladio kickes down the door. It snaps right off its hinges, flying clear across the room.

The room in question turns out to be a little sitting room, complete with a little table set for afternoon tea. All around, there are scattered bodies of imperial soldiers, and the fine rug is stained with blood. And in the middle of it all, there’s an elf – judging by the sharp angles of his face and the points of his ears – in a crisp black suit without a single wrinkle, despite the chaos all around him. He’s young-looking and handsome and not at all what Prompto had been expecting.

“Took you bloody long enough.” He says, pulling a long, silver dagger out of a man’s throat. Blood spews from the wound, somehow missing the man’s Accordan leather shoes entirely.

“I knew you you had it under control.” Noctis says, sauntering up to who must be Ignis, and kissing him on the cheek.

“Dude, how many of your servants are you sleeping with?”

“Hopefully three.” Noctis winks in his direction.

Ignis groans, the kind of groan that _speaks_ of years of experience dealing with the prince’s antics. “Let’s just get out of here. You can fill me in on all that I’ve missed on the way.”

“Sure.” Noctis sheathes his sword, banishing it to who-knows-where. He puts an arm around one of Ignis’s surprisingly broad shoulders and begins to lead him away from the massacre.

“Now, did I hear a Shout?”

“Oh, yeah. It’s a crazy story. So, you know how dad sent me to visit Luna in Tenebrae? Well…”

**Author's Note:**

> I have a Twitter now! Follow me @raspberryxmocha, if you wanna yell at me for taking on too many projects and never finishing any of them.


End file.
